


Your Eyes are Like Poetry

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Poetry, just a hint of destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick One Shot which takes place after the season 8 finale with a human Cas in the bunker. I realize that this doesn't fit in anywhere in canon but let's ignore that for now. Cas wants Dean to write a poem!</p><p>Part of my new saga in which I place the boys in the most ridiculous situations and turn it into a huge ball of fluff. (like that Flappy Bird fic I wrote) Today, Cas' eyes are like poetry...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Eyes are Like Poetry

“I don’t know, this seems like a good idea for you.”

“Sammy, I am not taking poetry classes from Cas”

“Why not?”

“Dammit Sam, I’m a hunter, not a poet!”

“I mean… You did make him play dumb phone games last week, it’s about time you did something he likes!”

It was true, now that Castiel had finally decided to retire from a week-long career of professional phone gaming, he was adamant on doing something a little different. Dean had offered to do a multitude of things with the now-human Cas, watching Game of Thrones, playing board games, taking the Impala out for a spin…

But Castiel wanted to write poetry, and Dean was having none of it.

“I can’t write! I’m a high school dropout” Dean looked at the pen and paper Cas was laying out, almost with a hint of fear. “Let Sam do it with you. I’m sure they did tons of writing in college!”

Cas said nothing and smiled, pressing Dean onto a chair with sufficient force such that Dean obeyed quietly. “You don’t need to learn how to write poetry,” he explained quietly. “You just use simple words to express how you feel”

He reminisced the nights he spent in heaven, watching quietly over the lonely souls on earth, scribbling their immense emotion (emotion so powerful he could not fathom until he too was human) and creating art out of regret, loss, anger, fear... And he adored the beauty that humans could create, but could not muster the same depth of feeling to do it himself.

But Castiel was human now, and he wanted to write poetry.

And he wanted Dean to write it too. He wanted to see into Dean’s soul. He wanted to hear Dean’s thoughts. I wanted to see the art Dean Winchester was capable of.

Dean stared at Cas, his face as blank as the piece of paper before him. How do you begin to express emotion in prose? He hadn’t the faintest idea. He considered his emotions.

 _Regret._ All that he’s done. All the mistakes he’s made. No, he wouldn’t write about that.

 _Loss_. All the different faces he had seen come and go in his life. Every single heart he saw fully fleshed out, then stripped away abruptly by sheer reality. No, he couldn’t write about that.

 _Anger_. Why him? Why was it that he was greater than the world he was trying to save, but couldn’t come to love himself more than the world and everyone else? No, he wouldn’t write about that either.

 _Fear._ He didn’t want to lose anyone anymore. He didn’t want to make any more mistakes. He didn’t want to bear the burden of the world anymore. No, he certainly couldn’t write about that.

 _Love._ The strongest of them all. That was something he could work with. The blue oceans of Cas’ eyes were drilling into his head by now, Cas was burning with anticipation. He looked up. It was like he had peered into the depths of the ocean, but looked up into the sky. He was swimming and flying. He was surrounded yet free. That singular shade of blue carried more weight to Dean than the burden of the world itself. _That hue was enough to make a song._

 

Cas’ eyes were like poetry.

* * *

 

“Alright, alright, gather round. It’s time to hear the wonderful work of Dean Winchester”

Dean cleared his throat, and with a brief glance at Cas and a smirk to Sam, he began his recital with a completely straight face.

“Back in black

I hit the sack

I been too long

I’m glad to be back

Yes I am

Let loose from the noo-“

Sam was laughing, and Cas could not imagine why. He figured Dean was doing rather well.

“Dean, you’re reading the lyrics to Back In Black by AC/DC”

“Come on Sammy, you didn’t have to call me out!” Dean grumpily protested, watching Cas’ face fall upon realizing he failed to take his exercise seriously.

“No, that’s plagiarism,” Sam replied, still grinning.

Cas looked earnestly at Dean, as if still waiting for his masterpiece. Dean shifted uncomfortably for a moment, and looked to the ground. “Sorry Cas. I can't.” Looking up at Cas, he continued, “I tried, okay? I can’t write!”

But Cas smiled, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Well, you tried. I can’t criticize you for that.”

And that would have been it.

 

Well, if Dean hadn’t been lying. He would never admit to it for the rest of his many, many years, but he had written a poem. Perhaps not physically, not on paper, not for the eyes of anyone else… But for himself. It was a work of art that was created and tailored for his eyes only, somewhat like the work that inspired his verse.

* * *

 

**On your eyes; for my eyes only**

 

I have memorized,

More than memorized,

Pored

Over every inch of your being.

Every inch of your heart,

Though big,

But easy to read

Off the sleeve of your coat.

 

My words fail me

But you’re family

I need

I love

I cherish

You.

I could write hundreds,

Thousands,

No,

Millions of reasons why.

 

Remember when I said

Your eyes are like poetry?

They are

Verses that inspires me

 

To make my own.


End file.
